5
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
acquaintances stood about the door, speaking of the good qualities of
the deceased, when their talk was interrupted by the appearance of Mr.
Hooper, still covered with his black veil. It was now an appropriate
emblem. The clergyman stepped into the room where the corpse was
laid, and bent over the coffin, to take a last farewell of his deceased
parishioner. As he stooped, the veil hung straight down from his fore-
head, so that, if her eyelids had not been closed forever, the dead mai-
den might have seen his face. Could Mr. Hooper be fearful of her
glance, that he so hastily caught back the black veil? A person who
watched the interview between the dead and living, scrupled not to
affirm, that, at the instant when the clergyman’s features were dis-
closed, the corpse had slightly shuddered, rustling the shroud and
muslin cap, though the countenance retained the composure of death.
A superstitious old woman was the only witness of this prodigy. From
the coffin Mr. Hooper passed into the chamber of the mourners, and
thence to the head of the staircase, to make the funeral prayer. It was a
tender and heart-dissolving prayer, full of sorrow, yet so imbued with
celestial hopes, that the music of a heavenly harp, swept by the fingers
of the dead, seemed faintly to be heard among the saddest accents of
the minister. The people trembled, though they but darkly understood
him when he prayed that they, and himself, and all of mortal race,
might be ready, as he trusted this young maiden had been, for the
dreadful hour that should snatch the veil from their faces. The bearers
went heavily forth, and the mourners followed, saddening all the
street, with the dead before them, and Mr. Hooper in his black veil
behind.
“Why
do
you look back?” said one in the procession to his partner.
“I
had
a fancy,” replied she, “that the minister and the maiden’s
spirit were walking hand in hand.”
“And
so
had I, at the same moment,” said the other.
That
night,
the handsomest couple in Milford village were to be
joined in wedlock. Though reckoned a melancholy man, Mr. Hooper
had a placid cheerfulness for such occasions, which often excited a
sympathetic smile where livelier merriment would have been thrown
away. There was no quality of his disposition which made him more
beloved than this. The company at the wedding awaited his arrival
with impatience, trusting that the strange awe, which had gathered
THE MINISTER
’
S BLACK VEIL
6
over him throughout the day, would now be dispelled. But such was
not the result. When Mr. Hooper came, the first thing that their eyes
rested on was the same horrible black veil, which had added deeper
gloom to the funeral, and could portend nothing but evil to the wed-
ding. Such was its immediate effect on the guests that a cloud seemed
to have rolled duskily from beneath the black crape, and dimmed the
light of the candles. The bridal pair stood up before the minister. But
the bride’s cold fingers quivered in the tremulous hand of the bride-
groom, and her deathlike paleness caused a whisper that the maiden
who had been buried a few hours before was come from her grave to
be married. If ever another wedding were so dismal, it was that famous
one where they tolled the wedding knell. After performing the cere-
mony, Mr. Hooper raised a glass of wine to his lips, wishing happiness
to the new-married couple in a strain of mild pleasantry that ought to
have brightened the features of the guests, like a cheerful gleam from
the hearth. At that instant, catching a glimpse of his figure in the look-
ing-glass, the black veil involved his own spirit in the horror with
which it overwhelmed all others. His frame shuddered, his lips grew
white, he spilt the untasted wine upon the carpet, and rushed forth
into the darkness. For the Earth, too, had on her Black Veil.
The
next
day, the whole village of Milford talked of little else than
Parson Hooper’s black veil. That, and the mystery concealed behind
it, supplied a topic for discussion between acquaintances meeting in
the street, and good women gossiping at their open windows. It was
the first item of news that the tavern-keeper told to his guests. The
children babbled of it on their way to school. One imitative little imp
covered his face with an old black handkerchief, thereby so affrighting
his playmates that the panic seized himself, and he well-nigh lost his
wits by his own waggery.
It
was
remarkable that of all the busybodies and impertinent
people in the parish, not one ventured to put the plain question to Mr.
Hooper, wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, whenever there ap-
peared the slightest call for such interference, he had never lacked
advisers, nor shown himself adverse to be guided by their judgment. If
he erred at all, it was by so painful a degree of self-distrust, that even
the mildest censure would lead him to consider an indifferent action as
a crime. Yet, though so well acquainted with this amiable weakness, no
